


Starlog 2-67-3: TIFU by Running Into an Ex Co-Worker (And, For the Last Time, He’s Not My Ex, Chewie!)

by Innwich



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Dinner, Gen, Humor, Jedi Academy (Star Wars), Restraints (Non-Sexual), Workplace Rivals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29272479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Innwich/pseuds/Innwich
Summary: After a heated argument with Leia, Han decided to stay with Luke for a while at the new Jedi academy. Little did Han know that he would be the second sentient being to gatecrash Luke’s first ever parent-teacher meeting, and that he would be revisiting his worst, recurring nightmare: Having dinner with Boba Fett.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Han Solo, Din Djarin & Boba Fett, Luke Skywalker & Han Solo
Comments: 22
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

“Now is not a good time to talk, Han,” Luke said. The audio crackled with static.

Hando looked down from the tangled wires in the overhead control console that he was jerry-rigging for the jump out of hyperspace. Flying the _Millennium Falcon_ wasn’t meant to be a one-man job, but Han had to make do with what he had. He checked the visual feed of the holocall again. Luke was definitely wearing clothes, meaning he was already in a better position to talk than Lando whenever Lando used that same line to fob Han off.

“Good to see you too. I’m in your sector, and thought I’d drop by. Are you home?” Han said.

“Yes, I’m at the academy, but you can’t just-”

That didn’t sound promising.

“Blast it, my signal is dropping. I’ll see you in ten, kid. We can talk then,” Han said loudly. He hung up before Luke could finish his objection. Luke couldn’t very well kick Han off the planet once Han was planetside. Han would say asking for forgiveness was easier than asking for permission, but he hadn’t had much luck with the former lately either.

The holotransmitter rang and displayed a notification about an incoming call. Luke was calling him back. Han let the call dropped as he busied himself with the overhead wirings. Luke gave up after a couple more tries.

Han gave the wires a final tug before he slid back into his pilot seat. It was time to see if the astromech processor that he had spliced into the sublight drive was any good.

* * *

Han walked down the ramp of the _Falcon_ with a bruised arm. He was a little banged up but otherwise unhurt, which was more than he could say for the _Falcon_. He would have to check and see if the fire had damaged the engines. With any luck, Luke would let him stay and it would be a few months before Han had to attempt to fly the _Falcon_ again.

(But would it count as luck if he was still in the dog house a few months from now? Ugh, maybe he should save the philosophical thinking for when he hadn’t wrestled control of his ship from a stubborn, disembodied astromech by slamming his head against the navicomputer.)

The _Falcon_ had landed on a low hill that overlooked the coordinates that Luke had given Leia for his Jedi academy. Fields of crops sprawled across the foot of the hill. An automatic machine was working slowly through rows of ripe grains. Farther in the distance, close to a cluster of huts made out of rocks, lay several farm ponds and a pen of six-legged barves.

“Not bad, Luke,” Han said under his breath. “Not bad at all.”

Han might have chosen to crash (more literally than he had hoped) at Luke’s Jedi academy only after a process of elimination – Chewie was rebuilding his home on Kashyyyk, Lando was rebuilding his home on Cloud City while charming the pants off of various organic and inorganic sentient lifeforms, and… and that was it, the process of elimination was depressingly short – but the academy was shaping up to be just the place Han needed to cool his head and think things over.

It was then that Han heard a strange noise. It sounded like a blast of flames, but it wasn’t loud enough to be a spaceship taking off into the air, nor quiet enough to be a blow torch turning on.

The noise was getting louder. It was approaching Han.

Wait. Han knew that sound.

He felt like ice water had filled his veins. His hand dropped down to his holster, but it was too late to shoot the jetpack and its wearer out of the sky.

A dark shape landed in front of him, kicking up dirt. The jetpack switched off cleanly.

“I’d recognize your ship anywhere, Captain Solo,” Boba Fett said, pointing a blaster rifle at Han’s head. His black robes were billowing under his green armor in the wind. 

Hysterically Han thought, whoever said black was a slimming color didn’t know what they were talking about. It had been years since he had last seen Boba, but there was no way that Boba had been this broad and built and terrifying before. Han used to be able to kid himself into thinking he could take on Boba in a fair fight; they had been pretty much the same size. Hell, Chewie had thought the guy was wimpy, and Han had told Chewie not to underestimate slender but muscled career criminals employed by the meanest crime lord on this side of the Outer Rim.

Chewie had then rolled his eyes at Han, which had been uncalled for.

To say Han was terrified was the understatement of the year, so Han had no idea why he said what he said next, except maybe that his mouth lost all filters under extreme stress.

“Actually, I’m a general now,” Han said.

“My mistake, General Solo,” Boba said without missing a beat. “I lost the means to keep tabs on you after you pushed me into the Great Pit of Carkoon.”

“You’re still hung up on that, huh?” Han said.

Boba pressed the rifle barrel hard against Han’s temple.

“Lower the rifle, Boba,” Luke said, stepping into view with a blaster trained on Boba.

Han swung up his blaster and aimed at the silvery Mandalorian behind Luke. The Mandalorian noticed Han, and became still, holding a blaster loosely in his hand.

“That’s not how a standoff works, kid. You don’t just ask someone to drop their weapon,” Han said to Luke.

Luke was pointing a blaster at Boba, Boba was pointing a blaster at Han, and Han was pointing a blaster at the Mandalorian. There was one thing missing.

“Hey, Mando, you should be pointing your blaster at Luke,” Han said to the Mandalorian. “I’m a good enough shot to shoot you under your armor at this range.”

“Din is on my side,” Luke said quickly.

“No, he is on my side,” Boba snapped.

Din the Mandalorian didn’t give any indication that he had heard them. His attention was focused on some spot lower down the hill. Han would take a look at what was distracting him in the middle of a standoff, if he weren’t busy keeping his eyes on the rifle pressed against his head.

“Great, then neither of you would want me to shoot him,” Han said.

“This isn’t how a standoff works either, Han,” Luke ~~whined~~ objected.

“I’m pretty sure it is, kid,” Han said. “And this is the part where either we all agree to drop our blasters or we shoot each other at the same time.”

“I don’t need a blaster to shoot you and the Jedi at the same time,” Boba said.

“You won’t hit me, Boba. The Force is with me,” Luke said.

And then Han’s blaster flew out of his hand and into the clawed grip of a strange small green creature. The creature was dressed in beige robes. Han hadn’t even noticed it had waddled up the hill to join them. He had been thinking of a way to get out of the standoff without dropping his blaster or getting shot.

Han stared down at his now empty hand. “That’s definitely not the way to do it.”

“Grogu! No!” Luke yelped, diving to the ground to catch the creature, which was trying to stick the blaster into its mouth.

Han looked up sharply when a pistol blaster was pointed between his eyes.

“Who is he, Fett?” Din said. His pistol didn’t waver from Han’s face.

Han put his hands up. “Uh, Luke? I thought you said the silver one is your friend.”

Luke had his arms full of Grogu and was wrestling Han’s blaster out of Grogu’s hands. Han grimaced at the drool and sticky fingerprints on his blaster. He was gonna need to take his blaster apart and give it a good clean if he got out of this alive.

“Han Solo. The smuggler who attacked me from behind and pushed me into the sarlacc pit,” Boba said icily.

“I was blind, jackass!” Han shot back, bolstered by the kind of bravery that only came to him in the face of certain death. “How was I supposed to know you were standing behind me? If anything, it was your damn fault for wearing a malfunctioning jetpack near a sarlacc pit.”

“What did you call me?” Boba growled.

“You heard me,” Han said.

Din seemed to consider Han’s words. It was hard to tell, what with the helmet on his head. He said to Boba, “He deserves a fighting chance in honorable combat.”

“Thank you.” Han sagged in relief.

Boba sneered, “It’s more than he deserves, but I’ll agree to let him die in combat.”

Han had a sudden bad feeling about this.

Din took his finger off of the trigger of his pistol and offered the pistol to Han. “Take it.”

“Do I get your armor too? It’s hardly a fair fight if he wears armor and I don’t,” Han said.

“You’ll fight Fett as you were before you were disarmed, no better or worse off,” Din said.

Han eyed the pistol that Din was offering him. Han was a fast draw, but not fast enough to shoot two fully armored Mandalorians without getting shot in the face. ”What if I don’t go through with this honorable combat you’re proposing?”

“Then I’ll shoot you like a dog now,” Boba said. There was no mistaking his grim satisfaction as he tightened his grip on his rifle and said in Huttese, “ _Maclunkey_ , General Solo.”

The rifle was ripped out of Boba’s hands before he could squeeze the trigger. Din’s pistol flew out of reach when Han tried to make a grab for it. Luke caught the two blasters out of the air; he was holding Han’s blaster too, which had been freed from Grogu’s grasp. Grogu was now chewing on an amphibian that was twitching in agony.

Boba raised his arm and primed his wrist-mounted rocket. “Give it back, Jedi.”

“Don’t shoot him.” Din held out a hand to stop Boba. Boba hissed, but lowered his arm begrudgingly.

Han didn’t mean to stare, but he gaped at them. Boba Fett being reined in on the cusp of a killing spree? Han had seen a lot of weird crap since he had joined the Rebel Alliance, ranging from planet-destroying space stations to man-eating mini-Wookies, but he never thought he would see that in his dreams.

While Boba was glowering at Luke, Din bent down to pick up Grogu, who squealed in delight.

“Please don’t kill my brother-in-law. Leia would kill me,” Luke said. He turned to Han with large disappointed eyes. Han shrunk under Luke’s gaze. He was once again reminded of the strong family resemblance Luke shared with Leia. After the Battle of Endor, Han had taken comfort in the fact that no one had realized the two were twins either. Luke continued, “We should return to the academy. It’s getting late, and I need to have a talk with Han.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Look, kid, I’m not running out on Leia. I don’t know where you got that idea from,” Han said, pushing through overgrown bushes.

Luke was trailing after Han and not helping to clear the path. “You’ve been complaining ever since Leia was chosen to chair the new committee at the senate.”

“Only because it takes up all her time and I don’t see her anymore,” Han said.

Luke scowled at him. “Han, tell me what happened.”

This was shaping up to be the longest hike that Han had ever been on. At least Boba wasn’t here to leer at Han while Han was being interrogated by his twerp of a brother-in-law. After Grogu had finished his snack and started fussing, Din had said Grogu was hungry and had wanted to take Grogu back to the academy ahead of the group. Boba had taken a long hard look at Han before jetting off with Din and Grogu. Now, hiking through the lush greenery and almost twisting his ankle on a loose rock, Han was wishing for a janky jetpack himself.

“Nothing happened,” Han said defensively. “I was just telling Leia about how I miss flying because she’s always busy at the senate and I have to take care of Ben.”

“You can’t expect her to give up her work at the senate. She’s dedicated her life to the public service of the galaxy,” Luke said.

“That’s not what I was suggesting! Although now that I think about it, I probably should’ve led with the nurse droid modules I’ve been winning in sabacc games,” Han muttered. When Luke opened his mouth again to argue again, Han cut him off, “But enough about me. What did you do to be tracked down by Boba Fett and the shiny Mando? Those guys don’t come cheap. Did you rob a Hutt? If so, I want in.”

Luke’s scowl deepened. “I invited Din here to discuss the progress Grogu has made in his training. Boba came to look for you. I tried to warn you, but you hung up on me.”

“Holocall coverage is spotty in hyperspace, you know how it is,” Han said.

Luke gave Han a pointed look that made it clear he thought Han was full of shit. “Boba threatened to burn down my house. He said, and I quote, ‘There’s nowhere for him to hide. I always get my man.’”

Han made a face. “I was afraid he’d say something like that.”

“And then you crashed in my backyard,” Luke said. “Are you telling me you happened to show up at the academy on the same day Boba came to look for you?”

“What? It’s not like I planned for it to happen,” Han said. Luke was still scowling fiercely at him, which was weird, considering that Han was telling the truth for a change. It was almost as weird as the accusation that Luke had flung at him out of nowhere. Han was many things: a smarmy smuggler, a rakish rogue, and a good-looking gun-for-hire, but he wasn’t a two-timing, no-good cheat-

Realization struck Han like lightning.

“I’m not eloping with Boba Fett! Dammit, Luke! You better not have said anything to Leia!” Han yelled.

* * *

Despite their freaky twin telepathic connection, Luke hadn’t said anything to Leia yet, and to make up for being an ass, Luke agreed to stay quiet about Han’s current whereabouts on one condition.

“All right, all right. I’ll behave at dinner. You have my word.” Han stirred the stew that was turning a dark shade of green in the cooking pot.

“I’m serious, Han. This is Din’s first time visiting the academy. I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable,” Luke said, pulling a wooden ladle out of a cupboard mounted above the kitchen sink. “Din and Boba have rules about not showing their faces to strangers. I don’t know how they’ll eat without taking their helmets off, but whatever they do, don’t make fun of them.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve seen Boba eat,” Han said.

“You have?” Luke handed Han a basket of bread rolls, and lifted the pot of stew off the fire.

“Yeah, it’s disgusting. It’s a sure-fire way to lose your appetite,” Han said.

Luke sighed. “Why did I think this is a good idea?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Han said, taking the bread out of the kitchen.

The refectory was a stone’s throw away from the kitchen. It was a long room filled with rows of handcrafted benches where Padawans of all ages would dine together. Unfortunately, there was only one Padawan at the academy, and Luke might have been too ambitious when he had built the place. A lamp was lit on the lone occupied table in the refectory.

Han stumbled in near pitch-black darkness towards the light. He had no doubt it was Boba’s idea to pick a table as far away from the kitchen as possible.

“This is cozy,” Han said. He set the basket of bread rolls down on the table and chose the seat that wasn’t right across from Boba.

Grogu grinned up at Han from the bench where he was sandwiched between Boba and Din.

“Yes,” Din said after no one else spoke up.

Hoo-boy. A tough crowd. They weren’t giving Han much to work with. Din had the stoic lone-wolf act down pat. It must be what had gotten him the dubious honor of being Boba’s work partner (Or was it sidekick? Did Boba have work partners? Han knew Boba used to hang with Bossk, but Bossk had been less a work partner and more a hovering mother hen that ripped out people’s throats for looking at Boba funny, and Han had valued his own neck too much to ask). Granted, it would be more convincing if Din weren’t cutting a bread roll into bite-sized chunks in Grogu’s bowl and Grogu weren’t banging his spoon against his cup like a one-man cantina band from hell.

Just as Han was wondering if he could get away with talking the kid into surrendering the spoon, Din gently but firmly gripped Grogu’s flailing arm. “Stop it.”

Grogu let out a low whine.

“Cute kid,” Han said warily. “How old is he? Five? He looks like he’s about my son’s age.”

“Fifty,” Din grunted. Han waited for the rest of his answer. Fifty standard months, weeks, days, or what? With the vast multitude of planets in the galaxy, countless non-standardized time units and calendars were still in use. But after confiscating Grogu’s spoon, Din resumed his task of cutting bread for Grogu.

Han sighed inwardly. He tried again. “Is that beskar? I’ve never met a Mandalorian that wears unpainted beskar before.”

“My father wore unpainted beskar,” Boba said.

“Oh? Is Din wearing your father’s armor?” Han said. He mentally amended his notes on Din from ‘Boba Fett’s sidekick (?)’ to ‘Boba Fett’s life partner (?)’. Han had witnessed some outlandish marriage traditions in his travels across the galaxy, but if he had any advice to give as a married man, it would be not to marry into a family that passed down blasterproof armor as dowry.

Boba slammed his fist on the table. “ _I_ am wearing my father’s armor.”

“Take it easy. I’m just making conversation,” Han said. He didn’t know what Boba’s problem was, but personally Han wouldn’t go around announcing the fact if he were wearing his dead dad’s duds, that was for sure.

“Save the chit-chat,” Boba said. “We’re not your friends, so let’s not waste our time pretending otherwise.”

“Not that I don’t agree with you, but if you think I’ll shut up just like that, you can kiss my ass,” Han said.

“Language, Han!” Luke said sharply, carrying the pot of steaming stew and a jug of bantha milk. Luke’s gaze darted to Grogu, which, fair enough, usually Han was more mindful of his language around kids when there weren’t old enemies aggravating him.

“Sorry,” Han said half-heartedly, freeing up space for Luke to put down the stew and milk on the table.

Boba crossed his arms with an air of self-satisfaction that had Han narrowing his eyes. The smug bastard. What was he so pleased with himself for? He wasn’t even the one that had gotten Han in trouble. Han was the one that had gotten Han in trouble.

“It’s fine. Grogu has heard worse,” Din said.

Grogu chattered nonsensically. He was banging a new spoon against his bowl.

Luke winced. “That’s not any better, Grogu. You shouldn’t say those words to friends.”

“What did he say?” Han helped himself to the stew.

“Please don’t encourage him,” Luke said. “Din, you should try some of the bread. It’s freshly baked. Grogu helped me with preparing the dough.”

Din nodded his thanks. He took his bread roll and stew, and turned his back to the table. There was a hiss of air escaping as he unsealed his helmet. He lifted up his helmet slightly, but not high enough for the back of his neck and head to be visible.

Boba wasn’t turning away from the table to have his meal. Instead, he uncoiled a feeding tube from one of his belt pouches, and set it aside. Han knew what would happen, but like watching a spaceship burn up in atmospheric reentry, he couldn’t look away, as Boba dipped bread rolls into his bowl of stew, submerging them completely. Then Boba poured bantha milk into his bowl. He stirred the mixture, and ground the back of his spoon against any solids he found. The dark green of the stew was turning into a disgusting greenish-blue hue that should only appear on spoilt cheese.

Han looked around the table to see if anyone else was seeing this, but Grogu was wearing half of his stew on his face and Luke was searching for a handkerchief in his Jedi robes.

Happy with the thickening mixture, Boba attached his feeding tube to the underside of his helmet. He wasn’t looking down at his bowl anymore. His visor was tilted to his right, staring straight at Han, as he slowly sucked his dinner up his feeding tube. The feeding tube rattled whenever air bubbles passed through it.

“Don’t you ever get bored of doing that?” Han said testily.

“Doing what?” Boba said. His words were muffled.

“You know what,” Han snapped.

Boba detached his feeding tube from his helmet. The food that had been sucked halfway up the feeding tube slid back into the bowl. “Enlighten me.”

“That,” Han spat. “You don’t scare me.”

Grogu cooed at the unmistakable click of a blaster being cocked under the table.

“What about now?” Boba said.

There was an answering click under the table as Han drew his own blaster. “I see your WESTAR-34, and raise you a DL-44 heavy pistol.”

But Han’s threat hinged on the assumption that Boba had at least one vital organ in his lower body. Chewie had mentioned years ago that Boba smelled like clones. Had Chewie meant human clones or clones of some other species? Han had tuned Chewie out halfway through the recount of the Clone Wars. Chewie got a little too shouty whenever he was reminiscing about the battles he had fought in in his two hundred years of existence. It would throw a wrench in Han’s plans to murder Boba where he sat if Boba didn’t have near-human anatomy.

“You’re mistaken.” Boba leaned forward in his seat, and suddenly Han felt the cold metal of blaster muzzles pressed against his kneecaps. Boba said, “I have two WESTAR-34s.” 

Grogu was looking back and forth between Han and Boba with his big ears whipping around his head. 

Luke looked pained.

Right, Han had promised to play nice, but that was before Boba threatened to blow out his kneecaps and worse. Boba’s blasters were digging into Han’s knees through his pants. Sweat was running down Han’s forehead and stinging his eyes. Han didn’t dare blink.

Din coughed discreetly. He resealed his helmet and turned back to the table. “Fett.”

Boba leaned back, taking his WESTAR-34s with him, The pressure on Han’s knees was released. “I wasn’t going to shoot. All I meant to say is that fear is a normal response. It keeps us alive. You’d be a fool not to feel fear in the face of death.”

“That’s a good one. Don’t ever change, Boba.” Han laughed. If it sounded forced, it was nobody’s business but his. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and crossed his legs. “Would you kids believe this isn’t the worse dinner I’ve been to? It’s not even the worst dinner I’ve had with this guy.”

“The Crimson Dawn Life Day ambush,” Boba said immediately.

“Not even close. Ambush or not, Jabba’s Life Day parties were a hoot and a half,” Han said.

“The dinner on Dengar’s ship,” Boba said.

“Hey, whatever problem you have with Dengar, that’s between you two. I like him. He doesn’t try to kill me. Much,” Han said.

“Of course you do, he’s an idiot from Corellia too,” Boba scoffed. “The dinner with Bossk.”

“Not a fan of the raw steaks or the cannibalism stories, but the wine was good,” Han said. “No, I had the worst dinner of my life on Cloud City. You’d like it though, Luke. Your dad was there.”

“Vader was his father?” Boba said sharply, looking from Han to Luke.

It was Han’s turn to be smug. “Didn’t you know? You couldn’t be much of a right-hand man if Vader kept that from you.”

“He wished he could afford me full-time,” Boba sneered.

“Was he with the Hutt syndicates?” Din asked Boba.

“No. Imperial client,” Boba said. “He was a Sith Lord that wanted to wipe out the Jedi.”

Din turned to Luke. “But you’re a Jedi.”

Luke was rubbing his temple. “Yes, my father’s past was… complicated.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Mando,” Han said. “So I ended up in Cloud City, having dinner with my future father-in-law, my future wife, my best friend, my other best friend who betrayed me to my future father-in-law, and frigging Boba Fett, while a squad of stormtroopers held me at gunpoint.”

“I liked the soup,” Boba said.

“And that was before my future father-in-law tortured me and used me to test his carbonite freezing chamber to make sure it wouldn’t kill his son,” Han said.

“The first successful use of low-grade carbonite for freezing a live bounty,” Boba said to Din. “I was skeptical at first, but Vader was an artisan and a visionary if nothing else. The Bounty Hunter Guild was quick to adopt the freezing process.”

“Glad it works out for the rest of you,” Han said saltily.

“It seems like you made a bad first impression on your father-in-law,” Din said.

“Solo tried to shoot Vader the second he met him,” Boba said.

Han jabbed a threatening finger at Boba. “It was self-defense, and you damn well know it!”

“You should count yourself lucky,” Boba said. “Not many people got away with crossing Vader. I’ve seen him Force-choke Imperial admirals for displeasing him.”

Din’s voice was tight with concern when he asked, “What do you mean ‘Force-choke’?”

“It was an unnatural power that allowed him to strangle his enemies without physical contact,” Boba said.

“That’s enough of this talk,” Luke interrupted. “I knew too well of the hatred and anger that my father harbored before he returned to the Light. But we should save the discussion for when Grogu has a better understanding of the Force.”

They all looked at Grogu, who was blinking at them with wide innocent eyes that were setting alarms off in Han’s head. Han knew that look. It was a look that had sent Han running to his and Leia’s room to make sure that his blaster was still locked in his bedside drawer.

“Where did he get that frog?” Han said.


End file.
